


‘til the end of august

by Morgondagar



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Grief, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgondagar/pseuds/Morgondagar
Summary: Well,bye-bye good times. He laughed humourlessly as the witcher’s face crossed his mind.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	‘til the end of august

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by the swedish song “till slutet av augusti” by Moonica Mac. Have it playing in the background as you read this to get the correct pace and emotion.

” _See you around, Geralt._ ” 

Jaskier sighed as he made his way across the rocky surface of the mountain, his arms hung limply against his sides as he trekked on. The pain spread through his entire being as he thought back on the years that had passed. Well, _bye-bye good times_. He laughed humourlessly as the witcher’s face crossed his mind. 

It had been decades since the two met, yet apparently it was nothing for the man. Or maybe it was, he just couldn’t see it. Jaskier wanted to tell him it was fine, that Geralt could go wherever he wanted and leave the bard behind. He would figure his way around the continent on his own, eventually. But he could only say so if the other promised it was because he him wanted to. He wouldn’t have left if there was any doubt in Geralt’s face.

He knew the man didn’t want anyone to need him, want him, so he never forced it upon him. If it turned out to be that the witcher was afraid to let him in... well, that wouldn’t be right of Jaskier. Perhaps they both were better off this way. 

He watched the sun set as he plucked his lute gently, the song far from done but his only company. An hour ago he had turned to ask Geralt for his opinion, a hollow ‘ _Right._ ’ leaving his lips as he was met with silence. The witcher had left him, just the way summer was retreating from the bard as well. The heat lingered a few more minutes before a chilly breeze told him to go to sleep, curling up so gently next to his instrument as he drifted off. His hand played across the strings and lacquered wood, pretended his own body heat came from the man he already missed so much. 

Jaskier had barely touched the other, hadn’t told him all the things he wanted to say and have him know. He was careful, walked on eggshells around Geralt as he tucked his heart far up his sleeve. The man had no reason to leave him behind, no reason to be afraid. He wanted to fight for him to understand, had tried with a sad “ _That’s not fair..._ ” but given up just as quickly. If he wanted nothing more than for the bard to leave, then there wasn’t much to do. 

And that hurts a bit, you know?

Oh, but Jaskier didn’t want him to know his heart was aching, didn’t want to bother the man with the thought. Geralt could leave it for him to nurse back to life again. He was used to it by now. _Rather an aching heart than an empty one, right?_ His flaccid chuckle didn’t make it hurt any less. 

If only he could learn to take the rejections less personal, learn not to dive straight into his own feelings the moment they arose and indulge in every second. Perhaps it would be less painful? Jaskier wouldn’t know, choosing to chase his hopes and think that it all turns out well in the end. 

Yet, the bard didn’t want to blame Geralt. All things considered, he was a good man. It couldn’t be easy to search for answers and the person that was right for him. He had a lot to figure out, his destiny tied around his neck like a noose and the strings all tied back to Yennefer and Cirilla. That would make a man break eventually.

And the man had no history of luck - the memory of his mother leaving him behind, flashes of pain from his trials still coursing through him, being taught not to love or be loved. Yet Jaskier had been there for him through it all, had dabbed a damp cloth over his forehead as he panted in his sleep while dreams tormented his soul. Had smiled sweetly and given him hours upon hours to talk about his problems, the offer never taken.

_ But perhaps your worst mistake would be to let me go. _

The bard thought of the way Geralt had grown over the years, a new man arising alongside the human as they travelled together. Yet somehow he had only gotten smaller, his doubts growing oh, so big. He didn’t know who he was in all of this, what his string in destiny would pull on with his every step. Maybe he just wanted to be held? 

_ Jaskier just wanted to be held. _

He got up on his feet with a renewed smile, watching as the sun shone it’s golden rays across the mountainside. He tapped his fingers against the wooden sides of his lute while his mind wandered.

“Isn’t it a bit sad that even though you had a choice, you couldn’t see my good sides as anything you wanted to keep?“ Jaskier surprised himself by saying it out loud, yet didn’t stop himself as his thrumming got more aggressive, the pain in his fingers from hitting the instrument not even comparable to the ache in his chest. He had all the choices in the world, and still he drove the ones who loved him away. 

One day Geralt would be sat there and watch how life passed him by, hear those old songs played from tavern to tavern when Jaskier was long gone. And then he would regret that they didn’t become a _we_.

_ And that hurts a bit, you know? _

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I made myself sad now. Bye-Bye good times!


End file.
